


The Happy Hug Company

by GnomeIgnominious



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff without Plot, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 20:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15915903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GnomeIgnominious/pseuds/GnomeIgnominious
Summary: Harry wasn’t sure what compelled him to search for the service. And after seeing the name of it displayed in large pink bubble writing on the top of their website, he wasn’t sure why he carried on scrolling, rather than closing the page, deleting his browser history, setting fire to his laptop and emigrating to Peru with a new identity.





	The Happy Hug Company

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off a conversation I saw between an anonymous asker and darcyfirth on tumblr. Hope they don't mind me writing something based on that!

****Harry wasn’t sure what compelled him to search for the service. And after seeing the name of it displayed in large pink bubble writing on the top of their website, he wasn’t sure why he carried on scrolling, rather than closing the page, deleting his browser history, setting fire to his laptop and emigrating to Peru with a new identity.

It wasn’t that he was lonely. Not in a certain sense of the word, anyway. Yes, he was getting on a bit, but some men liked that, and the ones who didn’t tended to look past the grey hairs and sagging jawline to drool over his carefully maintained physique and mostly disposable income. There was no shortage of sex in his life.

But Harry had started to realise that he wanted something more. Not sex. Not even love. Just a bit of companionship once in a fucking while would be nice. He had started to fantasise about coming home from a mission and seeing lights on in the house. Having someone there to give a hug and a kiss and to cook dinner for. He had quelled these thoughts by telling himself he’d get another dog, but it wasn’t fair to leave an animal that didn’t understand at home on its own all the time. People were different like that. You could have a conversation with them and not be considered stark raving bonkers.

And so, one evening, after a small dinner and a rather large gin and tonic, he’d started Googling. And he’d found a company that would apparently provide everything he was looking for.

“Bespoke companionship services!” the website trilled. “For the working man or woman who needs a little extra care and attention in their life.” And then at the bottom, in very threatening type: “NOT A SEXUAL SERVICE. HARASSMENT OF EMPLOYEES WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. BREACH OF THIS POLICY WILL RESULT IN LEGAL ACTION.”

There wasn’t much detail about what they offered, but the website had a contact form, so Harry filled in his details and ticked the little boxes to let them know what he wanted.

[X] Male

[X] 25-40

[X] London

[X] Live-in

There were no boxes to choose fit, charming and devilishly handsome, which was a shame. He submitted the form, closed his laptop and mixed himself another gin and tonic. The next morning he was sent on an emergency drop in Ireland and the Happy Hug Company was put completely out of his mind.

* * *

 

One week, one mission and one appallingly large amount of paperwork later, Harry was preparing to leave HQ for the evening when his phone rang. It was his actual, personal mobile and for a moment, Harry just stared at it stupidly, so surprised he was that it was ringing. After all, Merlin tended to use his work contact which always came through his glasses, and his mother usually let him call her, as he was away for work so much.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is that Harry? This is Gary Unwin calling from the Happy Hug Company.”

Oh god, that awful website. Harry wildly thought about hanging up the phone, but the thought of the M&S Meal for One waiting in his freezer stayed his hand.

“Yes, speaking.”

“Great! Based on the options you selected on your contact form, you’ve been matched with me. If you still want to go ahead, we can meet up and I can take you through the service I provide. There’s no obligation and no fee for the initial meeting. How does that sound?”

In spite of himself, Harry liked the voice. The man-- Gary-- sounded fairly young, and Harry could tell the refined accent he was using was not his own.

“That sounds wonderful, Gary. When would be a good time to meet?”

“I can work completely around you. Since you said you were interested in the live-in service, can I suggest that we meet at your house?”

“Of course. Then let’s make it tomorrow evening. I tend to get home from work between six thirty and seven.”

They exchanged a few more details and rang off. Harry let out a long breath and pocketed his phone. It had been a mistake to take the call at work, he realised. If Merlin ever got wind of this, he’d never hear the sodding end of it.

* * *

Twenty four hours later and Harry was preparing to leave work with a quite ridiculous amount of butterflies in his stomach. They were old-world swallowtails, he’d decided, and it was breeding season. He was tempted to break into Merlin’s office and have a swig of the Laphroaig he knew was in a desk drawer somewhere when his phone pinged with a text from Gary.

_Leaving now to meet you. Looking forward to it :) Gary_

Shit. He was going to be late. Abandoning the idea of Dutch courage, Harry gathered up the last of his things and sped to the train, willing it to go ten times faster than usual. Once he was back in Savile Row, he flagged down an ordinary taxi to take him the last mile or so home. The cab dropped him at the far end of the mews and, spotting a figure on the doorstep, Harry straightened his jacket, ran a hand over his hair and walked briskly to his front door.

As he approached, the figure turned.

“Gary?”

Christ, the boy in front of him looked about eighteen, his face split with a happy grin and a tuft of brown hair poking out from under his cap.

“Harry? I was wondering if I’d got the wrong house. It’s lovely to meet you.”

They shook hands and then Harry remembered his manners, opening the door and ushering Gary inside.

“Nice place,” Gary commented as Harry showed him into the living room.

“Thank you. Do take a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

Harry took refuge in the kitchen, pouring them both a generous glass of wine and gulping half of his down in one go. The thought of a paid companion had seemed ok at first, but now that the man was actually in his house, Harry was starting to regret ever having Googled the idea. He pasted a smile on his face and went back into the living room.

Handing Gary his wine, they sat in silence for a few minutes and Harry began to realise that it was _nice._

Just sharing his space with someone who wasn’t only there to-- well, not to put too fine a point on it, fuck him, was nice. And when Gary began to ask him questions about his job (tailoring, of course), the books on his shelf (for a secret agent, an embarrassing number of John le Carre novels) and what kind of music he liked (an even more embarrassing combination of ABBA and Chopin), he realised how easy it was to talk to him. So when the conversation came round to fees and Gary’s offer of continued service, Harry agreed to everything.

“Are you still interested in the live-in option, as well?” Gary asked.

“Yes, very much so,” Harry replied.

“I’ll move in on Monday,” Gary said, and smiled. “Oh, and would you mind calling me Eggsy? Only my school teachers ever used Gary.”

“It would be my pleasure, Eggsy. My pleasure.”

* * *

While it took a little time for Harry to adjust to having someone in the house, he and Eggsy quickly fell into a routine. Harry would arrive home from work and Eggsy would greet him in the kitchen with a hug, which Harry would usually shamelessly melt into. One or the other of them would cook dinner and then they’d spend the evening chatting, watching tv or just enjoying each others’ company.

The weeks passed and Harry grew more comfortable with bestowing physical affection on Eggsy, who seemed glad to reciprocate. Their hugs grew longer and Eggsy would occasionally give him a kiss on the cheek or touch his shoulder or back when they passed each other in the house. Once he even shyly took Harry’s hand when they were out for a walk one weekend and Harry clung on for dear life.

Their small casual touches were beginning to build up into something deep and warm in his chest and Harry found himself wanting more and more every day. He realised he was completely smitten with Eggsy, and they hadn’t even exchanged bodily fluids, which was a first. However, the warning from Eggsy’s company rang in his ears (“HARASSMENT OF EMPLOYEES WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. BREACH OF THIS POLICY WILL RESULT IN LEGAL ACTION.”) and he contented himself with holding Eggsy’s hand in the evenings and their chaste kiss at the top of the stairs every night, before they went their separate ways into the master and guest bedrooms. He knew Merlin suspected something but so far his colleague hadn’t asked any leading questions about why Harry was constantly walking around with a stupidly dreamy smile on his face, or who was making him packed lunches with little heart shaped Post It notes stuck to them, and Harry was happy to keep it that way.

Until a mission in Italy went terribly, horribly wrong.

* * *

Harry had been looking forward to a week of sun, sea, sand and some light surveillance, carried out from the comfort of a cafe, bar or beach towel. The sex trafficker he’d been assigned to watch, however, had other ideas. On the second day, his security had rumbled Harry (how they’d found out his real identity, he still didn’t know) and frog marched him rapidly through the mediaeval streets to the outskirts of the town. Shielded from view by a railway embankment on one side and a line of trees on the other, they proceeded to systematically beat the shit out of him.

Maintaining his cover of a normal English tourist to the last, Harry had refrained from responding in kind, and greeted the pain as an old friend. The thugs left him where he lay, bruised and bleeding, and Harry took the message as read: stay away, or bring a friend (or five) next time. He called Merlin for an emergency extraction and found himself back in the Kingsman sick bay that evening, ribs taped and suspected concussion attended to.

He was confined to sick bay for the night and the rest of the following day. He hadn’t contacted Eggsy yet, as he’d told him he’d be away working for a week, but Harry knew he’d have to go home soon and then there would be questions. After all, what kind of tailor gets a black eye and cracked ribs on a trip to Milan fashion week?

Harry entertained the notion of confessing everything about the situation with Eggsy to Merlin, but the image of Merlin crying with laughter at what was essentially a valet with benefits service rose unbidden to his mind and he dismissed the idea. In the end, he decided that he would tell Eggsy as much of the truth as he could, and hope that Eggsy wouldn’t mind continuing to live with someone who had lied to his face for more than four months.

* * *

The conversation actually went better than Harry anticipated. When he got home, Eggsy had come to greet him at the door, and his usual smile had turned to shock when he saw the bruises still shadowing Harry’s jaw. When Harry physically flinched as Eggsy hugged him, Eggsy’s expression turned hard, and Harry quickly toed off his shoes to follow him into the living room.

“Harry, what happened?”

“I… I had an accident at work, I’m afraid. When I was in Italy, I mean. You know me, clumsy as anything.” Harry tried to make light of it.

“Yeah. I do know you. And you’re not clumsy, you’re graceful as shit.” Eggsy licked his lips. “I know what broken ribs feel like, Harry. Did you get mugged or something?”

“Not exactly. Listen, Eggsy, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m not a tailor.”

Eggsy’s expression morphed from concern to confusion.

“But… your suits are so nice,” he said, somewhat bemusedly.

“Yes. They are tailored, just not by me. I actually work for the government.”

Not exactly the truth and Harry could practically hear the steam coming out of Merlin’s ears at the suggestion that Kingsman were in any way affiliated with what Merlin grumpily referred to as “those pencil pushers in Vauxhall”. Merlin had been seconded to MI6 for a month once, and had lasted two hours before he deliberately crashed their mainframe, opened all the doors, turned the sprinklers on and walked out. Kingsman’s relationship with government-run organisations had gone swiftly downhill after that.

“Oh right. Like plain clothes police or something?”

“Along those lines, but I do work abroad sometimes too. And I’m afraid this time I got on the wrong side of some chaps who apparently didn’t like my face-- or at least, that’s what I assumed, given how much they seemed to enjoy hitting it.”

“Oh, Harry.” Eggsy murmered his name comfortingly. “Come here.”

He embraced Harry a lot more carefully this time, and Harry relaxed gratefully into the warmth of Eggsy’s arms. When Eggsy brought a hand up to gently stroke his hair, Harry nearly asked him to stop. Not because he didn’t like it, but because he liked it so much he thought he might cry.

That night, after dinner and Match of the Day, they headed upstairs to their separate beds as usual. Harry, however, lingered over their kiss and reached down to tangle his fingers in Eggsy’s.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” he asked. “I don’t want anything… you know.” He swallowed, feeling awkward again. “I’d just like you to hold me.”

Eggsy smiled up at him.

“Of course, Harry.”

Eggsy went into his own room to get changed, and Harry was already under the covers when he joined him in bed. Eggsy was wearing a pair of soft flannel pyjama trousers and nothing else.

“Is this ok?” he asked in a whisper.

“Perfect,” Harry responded. He switched the light off and lay down on his side with Eggsy at his back, guiding Eggsy’s arm to lay over his chest. They fitted together perfectly and Harry drifted off, the feeling of being held and loved lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

He awoke some hours later with the feeling of something hard pressing into his back. Disorientated for a moment, Harry was about to switch on the light when he heard a small moan and remembered Eggsy. Then Harry’s brain properly woke up and realised what was going on.

Eggsy was asleep, but his cock was not. In his sleep, Eggsy pressed his hips up, making tiny thrusts and pushing his cock against the top of Harry’s arse. Harry could feel the wetness of Eggsy’s precum soaking through both their pyjamas. He rocked his hips back almost without thinking, and was rewarded with a louder moan from Eggsy. Eggsy’s hand moved involuntarily, brushing over Harry’s chest and catching his nipple. Harry caught his breath and forced himself not to grind his hips backwards again.

The service was strictly non-sexual, not matter how close the client and the companion became. Harry could not let either he or Eggsy jeopardise their respective jobs by carrying on down this route. He turned over and brushed a gentle hand over Eggsy’s jaw.

“Eggsy. Eggsy, wake up.”

“Hmm? Oh, Harry.” A beat and then Eggsy realised what had happened.

“Shit, Harry, I’m so sorry.” Eggsy had already extricated himself from the covers and leapt out of bed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Yes, I could see you were trying to,” Harry commented, but Eggsy didn’t seem to realise that Harry was trying to make light of it.

“Oh god, I really am sorry, Harry. I’ll go straight away. I can refund you this week’s pay as well.” All this came out in a garbled rush as Eggsy darted between Harry’s bedroom and his own, each time reappearing with more clothes on. Before Harry could stop him, the front door had slammed.

Eggsy was gone.

Harry fell back against the pillows and stared blearily at the ceiling.

Shit.

* * *

 For the next three days, Harry tried in vain to speak to Eggsy. His phone just went to voicemail every time and his Whatsapp messages remained unread, but finally he received a terse text:

_Complaints go through the main company website, or you can phone them, the number’s  01788 564371. Gary._

“Idiot,” Harry mumbled under his breath. “Stupid fucking beautiful idiot.”

 _I love you, idiot,_ he typed, then backspaced it because he wasn’t brave enough.

 _I only have one complaint to make: that you left before you could fuck me properly._ God no, far too forward.

Finally he settled for _Meet me in the park tomorrow at 2. I want to talk to you. Please?_

* * *

At half past two the next day Harry was still sitting on the bench they usually chose, getting increasingly cold and fed-up. Stake-outs had never been a strong suit of his, but he would get through them for the mission, so that’s how he had begun to think of this. Mission Win Eggsy Over was a-go.

Finally the target appeared in the distance, head down and walking quickly towards him, easily spotted in his garish jacket and bright white trainers. When he reached the bench, Eggsy wordlessly sat down next to him. Harry felt a sudden moment of loneliness-- they’d sat here so many times over the summer, hand in hand, watching the people go by, and now there was a gulf between them, all their closeness forgotten.

“Eggsy,” he began, “I don’t want to employ you any more.”

“Right. I already knew that. Now skip to the bit where you shout at me and we can move on.”

“I’m not going to shout at you. I’m not going to employ you any more, but I’d very much like to keep seeing you. If you want to keep seeing me, that is.”

Harry had a sudden moment of uncertainty. Companionship was Eggsy’s job. Was he that good of an actor that he could have completely faked the last six months of intimacy? Then Harry remembered the feel of Eggsy’s hard prick against his arse and dismissed his anxiety.

Eggsy finally looked up and met his eyes.

“You mean… like boyfriends or something?”

“Yes. Like boyfriends.”

Eggsy began to smile, then groaned. “I’ll have to get another job. Going back to a supermarket wage after this ain’t gonna be fun.”

Harry’s mouth moved before his brain could stop it.

“How about a tailoring apprenticeship?”

“Oh, like at that government tailor you work for?” Eggsy laughed. “Shut up, Harry.”

So Harry shut up, and let Eggsy close the gap between them, melting into his kiss as their tongues met for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it was nice to leave this where it is, but I may write a chapter 2, which would just be pure smut.


End file.
